Oh, dear Mama, where have you gone?
Come here, the baby stands alone;
And only think, indeed 'tis truth,
He has, just feel, a little tooth.
Look at his pretty shining hair,
His cheek so red, his skin so fair,
His curly ringlets, just like flax,
His little bosom, just like wax.
Oh, how I long 'till he can walk;
And then I'll long 'till he can talk;
And then I'll long 'till he can play,
When we have said our tasks each day.
I think he's growing very wise,
Now, don't you think so? Julia cries.
Then to the cradle off she ran,
To kiss the little fairy man.
[Illustration]